(Un)certainties
by Inyri Ascending
Summary: or, four times Kaidan was right, and one time he wasn't. For cullenplzhalp, Mass Effect Holiday Cheer 2016-2017.


**(Un)certainties  
**

 _she is falling, falling, falling from such a great height that it almost feels like flying; she opens her arms (only the one, really, the other still stubbornly refusing to function) and-_

* * *

She can't sleep, even with him there, so she watches the stars go by through the skylight above the bed.

After an hour or two- it's so easy to lose track of time in the passage of constellations- he stirs into wakefulness beside her. Out of the corner of her vision she sees his head turn in her direction; when he notices her still-open eyes, Kaidan frowns. "Shep-" he catches himself before he says it, which she appreciates; she's told him a hundred times that she has a name and that it isn't _Shepard_ \- "Kira. You should be sleeping."

"I can't. I keep thinking about Legion. I wish I could have-"

He interrupts her then, slipping a hand beneath her far shoulder to turn her to her side, facing him. "You stopped a war that lasted hundreds of years. You gave the quarians back their homeworld and the Geth are helping them rebuild it. Isn't that enough?"

She sighs. "I know, but-"

"But you want to be able to save everyone. You always did. I remember." Kaidan kisses her forehead. "This is war, Kir, and we're all soldiers. We knew what the risks were when we enlisted."

"You and me, sure. But the rest of the crew- Mordin-"

He snorts. "Mordin was ex-STG. Bad example. And even there- curing the genophage? From what you told me he clearly felt it was worth the sacrifice to save an entire species."

"Someone dies so somewhere, someone else can live. Ruthless calculus, Garrus calls it." It's been rattling around the back of her brain: the Bahak system, Earth, Palaven. "Shame I was never any good at math."

Something passes overhead at that moment, incandescent brightness that illuminates the whole bed, enough to make her lift her hand to shade her eyes- a comet, perhaps, or a piece of wreckage coursing through the void of space. There is more of that around, these days.

"I'm pretty sure that's not true. I'm pretty sure you know that's not true, either."

"Damn your biotic logic." Propping herself up on one elbow, she prods at his chest with the outstretched index finger of her free hand. "But you're right. I'm just second-guessing myself, I think- after the Blitz I promised myself I wouldn't lose anyone else, not if I could help it. I screwed it up with Ashley, but I brought my whole team back from the edge of a black hole, even when everyone said it was impossible. I hoped-"

He catches her hand in his- she lets him, of course; even without biotics she's just as quick as he is and usually she's faster- and shifts in closer, pinning it between them. "You're doing the best you can," Kaidan says, "better than anyone else would ever have been able to do. No one's going to fault you for that."

"I let that cyborg bounce your head off a shuttle. Not my finest moment."

"I got better."

It sounds like the punchline to a joke, so she can't help but laugh. "That's a matter of opinion, I-"

When he kisses her again their joined hands move, slipping down between their bodies, and she forgets what she meant to say.

* * *

 _-and she lands and oh, God, it hurts so much. but as she lays there, looking up at the sky as the colors fade from her vision, pieces of Reapers arc downward like a million shooting stars and it makes her smile, just for a moment, before-_

* * *

Of course they want her to speak.

First Human Spectre, savior of the Krogan, Arbiter of Peace, trotted out by the Alliance brass as a morale booster- God knows they need it, after the disaster that was Thessia- when she looks at it objectively, it makes perfect sense. She's used to being a figurehead. But she is standing in the wings of a stage on the Presidium, waiting to take the podium in front of a crowd easily ten thousand strong; her heart's pounding hard enough to fly out of her chest, because she would rather be doing anything else but this.

Backflip out of a troop ship at high altitude? Drive her Mako up the side of an active volcano? Play chicken with the main cannon on a Reaper? Bring it on: all in a day's work. She's felt the air leach from her lungs into the void of space and her heart slow and slow until it seized in her frozen chest, looked death in the eye as it reached out to claim her- and kicked it square in its stupid dead face. She's got too much to do to worry about mundanities like dying. Public speaking, though?

Nope. No way, no how.

"Why did I agree to this?" As Councilor Tevos finishes her introduction, she's standing at attention but she's got her hands clutched tight behind her back. "This was a terrible idea."

Garrus, at her right shoulder, nudges his knee into the back of her thigh. "Relax, Shepard. Just read off the prompter and picture all of them in their underwear. Isn't that the saying?"

"Your confidence is reassuring, if unwarranted, and I'm not sure that's a good plan." She chokes back a giggle, looking past the curtain at the front row of assembled dignitaries. "You've seen the new ambassador from Noveria?"

"Hm. Fair."

Kaidan, to her left, leans close and murmurs into her ear. "I've heard it helps to focus on one person."

"I know who I'd pick." She whispers back over the burst of applause from the gathered crowd. "You sitting in the front row, Spectre? Need to know where to look."

"Nope. Behind you on the stage."

"Not sure that's useful. I can't exactly look back over my shoulder the whole time."

As the audience quiets and Tevos looks toward them, beckoning them onstage with a wave of one perfectly manicured hand, she can hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, then," Kaidan says, "you'll just have to be creative. You've got this."

It's just like going into battle as she steps out of the wings, Garrus and Kaidan flanking her in the same tight formation they've fallen into so many times over the years. Her eyes adjust to the bright lights more quickly than they should, thanks to her enhancements; she takes a deep breath, looking up into the corner for the projection of her speech on the prompter screen.

She's got this.

In the pauses between sentences she blinks, picturing him, every muscle and freckle and scar of a body she's learned every inch of, on the backs of her eyelids. If she blinks a little more than usual during the course of her speech- well. The lights _are_ very bright.

* * *

 _-someone's yelling._

 _"sir?" again, louder, frantic. "sir! over here- she's still breathing- i think it's-"_

* * *

The morning after the party Shepard wakes at 0900, alarmingly late by military standards, to the smell of coffee and something frying wafting in from the kitchen.

Kaidan's nowhere to be found, his side of the bed empty but the pillow rumpled and his boots still lined up next to the end table. He was here, she's certain- she mostly remembers going to bed, with Kaidan beside her, at the end of the party, after everyone else had crashed out on couches and under tables. She'd closed the bedroom door, no thanks to the tripwire and the biometric sensors Zaeed and Garrus had managed to rig up at some point when she wasn't looking, but- oh, God.

She's pretty sure there was someone in the hot tub- possibly several someones, if she remembers the noise correctly. Still dressed, she rolls out of bed; they can't have seen much, at least. She hopes not. She'll never hear the end of it, otherwise.

When she peers into the bathroom, Grunt, on his back like an overturned turtle, is snoring contentedly in the empty tub, and Javik's curled beside it with his head resting on the tile surround. As she stands in the doorway, he groans faintly and shifts, turning away from her. Apparently, even Protheans get hangovers.

So do Commanders, of course- oh, her head aches. She needs coffee.

Kaidan, irritatingly, looks perfectly sober and far too cheerful when she drags herself into the kitchen. "Morning, sunshine. Coffee?" When she nods enthusiastically, he turns from the stove just long enough to hand her a mug before he returns his attention to a pan full of frying…

"Eggs?" She tries not to wrinkle her nose. It's funny, now that she thinks of it: in all their time together, he's never made her breakfast. On their rare days off they just skipped it, preferring lazy mornings in bed, and on duty it's always been ration bars or protein shakes or MREs, which is just fine by her. Breakfast, as far as she's concerned, is a wasteland of food options, each less appealing than the next.

Especially eggs. She _hates_ eggs.

"Stomach not up to it? I can make pancakes." Kaidan glances up at her as she takes a sip from her mug; he caught her expression, clearly. "I think everyone else is still unconscious, so I'll let you set the menu."

She shakes her head again. "No, thank you. I'll pass."

"You really should eat something. Crepes? I make great crepes."

That one gets a thumbs-down and another sip from her mug.

His forehead's scrunched in thought, now, as he tries more options. "Oatmeal?"

"Ew."

"Bacon." He eyes her, a desperate look on his face. "You can't not like bacon. _Everyone_ likes bacon."

"I do," she says, "like bacon."

Kaidan grins. "Bacon and coffee- breakfast of champions. Coming right up."

* * *

 _everything hurts. there is less everything than usual- when she tries to move she can't, like her muscles aren't there at all, and she cannot see out of her right eye and her jaw refuses to open, but still there is light and a hand holding hers-_

* * *

She knew, of course, what the risks were. They all did.

But it doesn't make it any easier to watch each lifeline flicker red in her HUD, her crew- her friends- taken down one by one by a merciless tide of monsters. They're all still alive, for now, but as each status changes from ACTIVE to DISABLED the knot in her chest pulls a little tighter and she's never been one for religion but she's never prayed so hard in her life.

She can see the conduit at the bottom of the hill, a pillar of light cutting through the smoke, and the way down's as clear as it's going to get; she signals to Kaidan and Garrus and they all three start forward, out of the safety of their cover spot behind a half-ruined wall, and-

The Reaper's beam hits them almost immediately.

When she forces her eyes open she's sprawled on the ground, half-buried under rubble, and two more lines on her HUD are flashing red. She can't find them on the display at first but then the sensors ping, Kaidan about ten feet to her right and Garrus, beside her- where? She can't see him.

"Garrus?" Her left arm won't work. Wedging her rifle under a chunk of rock, she levers it off her right leg until she can move and rolls to her stomach, looking around. "Talk to me, Vakarian. What's your status?"

The pile of rubble shifts. "I'm here-" a cough, a groan- "but I don't think I can make it to the Conduit, Shepard. My leg-"

She does what she can, one- handed, to clear the debris, and when she gets a better look she winces. He's right; his leg's clearly broken. "We'll get you out of here. You've got an evac beacon?"

"Yeah. Go find Alenko. He-" Garrus swears, raising his rifle to his shoulder. "Marauders on your six. I'll cover you. Go!"

She half-runs, half-hobbles as he starts to fire, each shot punctuated by a keening shriek and the thud of a falling body, scanning the ground as she goes, looking for-

 _Kaidan._

At first she thinks he's just sitting, leaning against a crumpled van. She reaches down to help him to his feet, though, and he doesn't move, and then she sees the rebar through his shoulder, pinning him to the driver's side door.

"It's okay," he says, though his eyes say something different, "I'm fine."

"You are such a _liar._ " There're too many pockets on this suit of armor; she searches for her cutting torch- she can't pull him free, she knows, not without knowing what the metal pierced through, but there's no time to scan him, no time-

He raises his hand to her face as she crouches down beside him. "You've got to go, babe, you can't-"

"Not without you." She finally finds the torch and lights it, the little blue flame heating the rebar to brilliant orange until it snaps, just behind his shoulder, and he leans forward with a gasp.

"I'll only slow you down."

"I don't care. I-"

When he kisses her it lands sidelong. "You can do this, Kira. I know it."

His beacon's shattered; she gives him hers, sets it up beside him carefully. She won't have a way to signal rescue when she gets to the Citadel. She has a sick feeling, deep in her stomach, that she won't need to. "I love you, Kaidan."

"I love you, too."

She kisses him again, hard, tasting the blood on his lips before he raises a barrier around himself, and then she runs.

* * *

 _"miranda." a familiar voice near her ear, the same weight on her hand. "how is she?"_

 _"better. you were here last week when she woke up? without the tech it's been slow going, but I think-"_

 _she opens her eyes._

* * *

It takes her almost two months (plus the four that she spent, sedated, in the hospital, before she finally woke up for good) but when he comes to visit her that day she is ready.

Dressed properly, she sits on the edge of the bed, feet firmly on the floor. He's nearly here now- she can hear his footsteps coming down the hallway, a steady cadence she'd recognize anywhere. She can do this.

"Hey, babe." Kaidan smiles, gesturing toward the wheelchair in the corner. "You ready to roll? The sun's actually shining, so I thought we'd go out to the atrium if you feel up to it."

"That sounds great."

He goes to move the chair next to the bed, the same thing he's done every day since the doctors gave her the all-clear to get up.

"Kaidan?"

"Hm?"

"How long did you say you thought it'd take until I could walk on my own?" She wills her legs to stop shaking.

He isn't looking at her, which is perfect, his attention focused on the brake release and the blanket draped over the back of the chair. "Well, the therapists thought it might be up to six months. They don't know you like I do, though, so I bet three. Why?"

"One month and twenty-seven days."

When he turns back around she's standing up beside her hospital bed, and she takes a step toward him, holding out her arms, and he leaves the wheelchair where it is and holds her tight.

"Pretty sure," she says against his mouth, "that means you owe me dinner."


End file.
